Burn
by junglemag
Summary: She ran the loofah across her shoulder, when she felt rough fingers roaming the small of her back.


**Title**: Burn

**Author: **junglemag

**Rating:** M

**Pairing: **GSR

**Author's notes: **This is my first attempt at smut. Wow, it was hard (no pun intended). This was inspired by a line in a Barenaked ladies song, "It was only mutual masturbation." Un-betaed, mainly because I'm impatient, so all mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

* * *

Sara Sidle couldn't believe that after three generations of family living on the western coast of the United Sates, she still had the predisposition to burn. Some kind of genetic anomaly allowed her brother to walk around half-naked for days on end with not so much as a pink tint to his skin, yet, if she'd glance at the sun, instant lobster. That was why the night shift suited her so well. Less sun, more moon. Rising sometime in the afternoon left little time for the sun to bare its fangs at her.

Not today, though. A late homicide left her pulling a double, lacking anything better than an SPF of 15. She spent four hours bent over the corpse of a forty year old man, silently cursing her genetically-blessed, olive skinned supervisor cum boyfriend, who was sitting in his mausoleum-esque office. He knew that she hated the sun, rather, that the sun hated her. She hurried as best she could, sliding into a shadow, sitting half-in, half-out of the Tahoe, silently cursing herself for wearing a sleeveless shirt. It was there though, she felt the heat, the fever spreading down her shoulders to her elbows, finally ending at her wrists.

_Why don't your hands ever burn? _Sara mused. It seemed like her hands were the only sections of her body incapable of burning. She happened upon some Noxzema in the glove compartment, thank God for Catherine. This was a trick she learned growing up, slathering on the cold cream, offering a truce with the smoldering flesh. She knew it was time to go home when she started hearing sizzling sounds coming from her forearms.

"Rough night?" he asked casually, looking over his newspaper.

"Oh, just a little, " she winced, sliding her backpack off her shoulders. "I think I'm going to hit the showers."

There's nothing like the searing spray of a hot shower to remind you just how much a sunburn hurts. Heat bouncing off heat, the already scorched skin tenses, hairs standing, goose bumps forming. The logical solution would be to turn the stupid dial over to cold, but that seems to ache as much, if not more than the hot. With cold, you shiver, shake, clamp. It's not only your skin now, your muscles get involved, tendons, ligaments, hell, even your viscera.

Sara attempted to reach a happy medium with the water heater, fiddling with the dial until the pain was tolerable. She lathered up one arm, then the other, realizing how even the slightest temperature change was more noticeable when you're hyperaware of your skin. She ran the loofah across her shoulder, when she felt rough fingers roaming the small of her back.

No words spoken, he lifted the loofah from her hand and began his ministrations. Starting at the ileac crest of her left hip, he worked in figure eights, gliding over her spine, making her shiver slightly. She tilted her head faintly revealing the reddened flesh of her shoulders. He took this as an invitation to taste the sweet tissue of her neck. Tracing his tongue from tendon to bone, he felt her go limp, exciting him more than she would ever know.

She stiffened when she felt his cock twitch against her right buttock. Intent on teasing him, she ground herself lightly into him, reaching backwards to scrape his belly, meriting a low growl from Grissom.

He grasped her elbows, gently turning her to face him. He reached up to cup her face in his hands, tracing the burn lines from her sunglasses with his thumbs. Lowering his head, he met his lips with hers, opening his mouth slightly, taking her lower lip between his teeth. Drops of water were beading off his curls, dripping onto Sara's face, running down her neck. He ran his hands from the crooks of her elbows, up to her shoulders, then down her back, cupping her ass, and grinding her into him.

Reaching in front of himself, he leaned her backwards into the shower wall, his tongue tracing her jaw line, nipping lightly at her earlobe. When he felt her slender fingers encompassing his dick, he bit into her neck, inciting a yelp. She started slowly, moving from base to tip, milking every last inch. She encircled the head with her index finger, brushing the tip with slight pressure. Grissom was moving further down her body till his mouth was parallel to her left breast. His warm breath prickled her skin, making her nipples stand at attention. He opened his mouth, drawing in a nipple, hand reaching up to twist the other. Sara increased the tension on his dick, stroking harder, drawing his balls into her other hand. She felt Grissom moan into her nipple, while simultaneously snaking his hand down to cup her mound. He parted her with two fingers, slipping one in to tease her clit. Sara tensed, matching her strokes with his ministrations, until his breath was hard against her breast.

He reached up, planting a sloppy kiss on her mouth. Both knowing they were near the edge, Grissom pushed Sara harder into the shower wall, spreading his legs, pumping into her hand. Moaning, mumbling, Sara ground into his fingers, begging him to keep going, never to stop. Breathing in a rhythmic motion, Grissom plunged his fingers deeper, sending Sara jerking into a climax. The feeling of her pelvic muscles milking around him caused him to release into her hand, the warm substance coating her palm.

After showering and toweling off, Sara looked at Grissom in the mirror, a slight smirk on her face.

"So, what did I do to deserve that?" She mused.

"Well, I noticed you had a sunburn," Grissom stalled. With a slight eyebrow raise from Sara, he continued. "And I read somewhere that an orgasm has an anti-inflammatory effect, so I was actually giving you a little first aid."

"And where did you get this little tid-bit of information?" She asked, slipping into a bathrobe.

" Applied Psychodynamics in Forensic Science," Grissom replied, "I'll get you a subscription." And with that he left a very satisfied, slightly flushed Sara Sidle staring at her reflection.


End file.
